What Will Happen to Me?
by KindOfClassic
Summary: Mesirsallel Stormtear is captured by Dark Elves in Avelorn. She receives a powerful sorcerer as her master; what will happen between them? M for swearing, violence, etc.
1. Chapter 1

The sun began to set in Avelorn, the pink-and-orange glow a stark contrast from the black Dark Elf tents set up in the woods. Slaves bustled about, any stopping to rest would hear the sharp crack of a whip slicing into their back. Dreadshots were positioned around the perimeter of the warcamp, blades slid into their sheaths but crossbows out. However, there was one Dark Elf who had a surprise headed in his direction.

.."Master Zaythl..?" A tan-skinned human, face badly bruised and bloody, shyly poked his head through the opening of the tent. His hands gripped the one of the flaps of the structure as if it were a lifeline, his legs shaking slightly with his green-blue eyes semi-focused on the sorcerer sitting cross-legged in the middle of the tent. Zaythl lifted his head with a shake of his cropped Chaos-black hair, revealing a stunning face with copper eyes to match. His lips were a pale pink, and his skin was the color of ivory. The sorcerer stood up, reaching over to the corner to grab his witchstaff.

"Yes?" he replied, his bright eyes looking rather dull, completely matching his monotonous tone.

"D-d-arian Iceheart s-say-s t-t-here's a.. new.. prisoner here. H-he's saying it-t's a Ss-hadow Warrior," the slave replied, badly stuttering as his hands and legs trembled in fear. Zaythl's eyes brightened the slightest bit as he took a few steps toward the young man.

"Shadow Warrior, you say?" his honey voice flowed out as he stuck out his chin in thought. The human nodded in reply.

"Take me to this prisoner, then," the sorcerer said, his back turned away from the slave as he donned his shoulder garments and hexveil. He whirled again, his ivory and purple robe hugging his body. The man hesitantly released his grip on the side of the tent and led his master across the warcamp. Zaythl followed close behind, eyes narrowed and focused off in the distance.

The pair trudged across the forest, and soon Ghrond's Sacristy was in view. The fortress was large and black, it's entrance so large and intimidating it seemed to swallow you as you passed through its gate. Spikes stuck out along the top rims of the walls to warn off unwelcomed visitors. They walked into the main hall, making a sharp right turn to the slave chambers.

The beaten servant stopped, waiting for his master. The sorcerer was walking slowly, using his glowing witchstaff as if it were a cane. He gracefully approached a man sitting on a stool in front of a rather large metal cage.

"Cairne," he said drearily in acknowledgement. The slave-keeper raised his head with a sharp-toothed grin as he reached out to shake the Dark Elf's hand.

"Zaythl, always a pleasure," the cheery keeper replied. "Looking for a new slave today?"

The sorcerer's eyes began to darken as he nodded, but stopped himself to speak.

"I heard there was a Shadow Warrior of Nagarythe captive you had recently caught? I would like to see him."

The slave-keeper chuckled as he replied, "Actually, that 'he' is a 'she'. And she's real feisty. Took out a whole lot of our own before we were able to catch her." He shook his head, almost in admiration, while he reached down towards his belt to pull out a wreath of keys. Jingling them, he turned around to insert one into the lock of the large cage, turned it, and opened the door.

The door creaked open, revealing a young High Elf whose arms were chained to the bars of the cage. Her hair was a strawberry-blonde that flowed in curls down below her breasts, but it was covered in dirt and blood. She kept her head lowered, yet her ragged breathing could be heard. Around her there was a small puddle of blood; there were cuts along her arms and legs.

Most of her armor was ripped from her body, and all that was left was scraps that covered her privates, shoulders, and feet. Slowly, the slave-keeper approached her, jingling his keys to let her know he was there. However, when he got close enough to be able to unleash her, she lashed out at him, kicking at him with her feet, digging her toenails into his thin robe. The Shadow Warrior yanked her head up, baring her small pointed teeth.

The sorcerer watched in amusement, studying the captive at the same time. Aside from her wounds, her skin was a peaches-and-cream complexion, her arms built up with muscle, probably from all that sword-and-bow work, Zaythl assumed. The one thing in particular that caught his attention, though, was her eyes. One was a gray with hazel rimming the pupil, while the other was green with flecks of light blue.

They were also filled with rage as she fought her captor, kicking and yelling. She writhed against the chains, but a whip across her chest from the slave-keeper stopped her. Even though she stopped fighting, she made no sound or indication that the whip had hurt her. Cairne turned to face Zaythl, grinning.

"I said she was feisty," he said, laughing. "Anyways, the little rat's name is Mesirsallel Stormtear, from what we've heard. She's been running amuck, ruining our defenses," he said, giving her a sharp glare. "She'd be good for heavy duty work, seeing as she's pretty nicely built. Then again, you can do whatever you want with her," he finished, eyebrows raising as a 'hint'.

"Hmmph," the sorcerer said. He turned to face his current slave. "You, get out of here. Go do something.. useful." Quickly, the tanned human scurried away. Zaythl once again gave his attention to the keeper. "How much for her?"

"Free! She's a pain in the ass." He shook his head. Cairne unlocked her shackles and yanked her to her feet. "I'll get her ready for you," he said, half-dragging the girl to the river to be cleaned. As she was dragged away, though, the warrior gave the powerful sorcerer a strange look. Of what, he did not know. Anger, fear, hatred? All he did was sit upon the stool adjacent to the cage to wait for his new servant.


	2. Chapter 2

Sooo, I didn't really like the first chapter after I read it.. Yeah. Too late for that hahaha. Pleassseee review!

Soon, Cairne's slight figure appeared in the distance, the shadow of his hand gripped onto the new prisoner's wrist as he dragged her back to where Zaythl was waiting. To the mighty sorcerer, the path they were following up the hill seemed as slow as ever. He pushed that thought aside and gazed at the fallen Shadow Warrior trudging towards him.

Her hair had been washed, dried, and combed roughly so that it was clean, yet it lacked shine and volume. The blood had been washed from her body, and now she was fitted in a gray body-tight robe that went down to her knees and covered up the cuts and bruises on her arms. As the slave-keeper continued his march, Zaythl noticed the young Elf looking-or glaring, possibly- at him. For what purpose, to size him up?

He would show her, he thought to himself. No meager slave is able to take down one of Malekith's most trusted Dark Magic bender. However, his egotistic thoughts were short-lived, because Cairne was now directly in front of him, still holding Mesirsallel.

"'Ere you go, Zaythl. Got her all polished up. 'Dint feed her, though. Slaves don't need to eat that often," he chattered casually despite the harsh glare the slave gave him. If looks could kill, it would be a dagger in the back. "Oh! I almost forgot," Cairne remarked, and reached down towards his belt, pulling out a long, leather whip with hooked beads on the ends.

"She ever acts up, use this.. And you'll probably have to use it quite often," he said, grinning. Zaythl only nodded. The slave-keeper let go of Mesirsallel's wrists and bound them with rope instead, and handing the end to Zaythl. "Off you go, now! May Khaine guide you!" Cairne called as the sorcerer and his new slave walked away from the keeping-chambers and made a turn into the main hall.

* * *

Zaythl walked drearily along the halls of Ghrond's Sacristy while pondering a question that had popped into his mind.

_Why did I buy her in the first place?_

Quickly, so as to appear inconspicuous, turned his head around to glance at her. She was nothing special, except for the fact she was a renowned Shadow Warrior. The only good thing about buying her was the fact that the Dark Elf numbers could increase now. He faced away from her again, making his way to his living quarters.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp tug on his end of the rope. Annoyed, Zaythl turned around to see the young High Elf had fallen. Now, she was on her knees, trying to get up. He bent over and offered her his hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked nonchalantly. Mesirsallel only let out a snarl at him and hauled herself to her feet. The sorcerer let out a snort, but continued on his way. "We'll have to do something about your attitude, High Elf. Around here you don't get the same respect that you once had."

He didn't expect a reply, but a quiet yet steady voice answered him, barely audible.

"What makes you think you're better than me?"

Zaythl whirled around to face the warrior, eyes narrowed.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, his jaw set tightly. She glared back at him, lips slightly pulled back from her white teeth.

"You heard me," she growled back at him. How dare she! She was a slave, not a king! In outrage, the sorcerer reached his arm out and slapped her across the face. When he did, though, she reached over and dug her teeth into his finger. He pulled his bleeding finger back, and wiped off the blood with the sleeve of his robe. It didn't hurt, but it irritated him greatly. Mesirsallel spat blood onto the polished floor of the fortress.

He stared at her angrily, but only yanked on the rope as a signal to continue on. Despite the silence, a raging battle was occurring inside the prisoner's head.

_I would rather die than serve you._

_He did stop to help you, though. That was rude of you!_

_And it was rude of him to make me suffer as a slave. He deserves to rot in the Chaos Wastes._

__She wanted to scream.

Zaythl, unaware of the hundreds of ways he would be slaughtered that had been thought out in his slave's head, stopped in front of a large door. It was purple and black, with a red mark of Khaine painted delicately onto the front. He pushed it open, revealing a lavish room. The bed was large and had fluffy red sheets, and aside was a wooden dresser-from only the finest wood in Ulthuan, of course- and a three-seated couch that had been expertly designed.

He untied her wrists, took hold of his witchstaff, and sat upon the couch before opening his mouth to speak.

Short chapter, I know. :c. REVIEW! -next chapter will be longer!-


	3. Chapter 3

Welll. Long chapter time :3. This took especially long since I tried to put in as much detail as possible. I focused more on the thought process and personality of the pair-mostly Mesirsallel- LES GO! *Please review!*

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.."I untied you, but trust me, if you try anything, I'll have your head." Zaythl calmly explained, but quickly regretted it. He thought the last of his words to be quite cruel, considering the fact that the Dark Elves considered brutality and ferocity virtues. He lifted his head to a pained expression on the girl's face, but it vanished as quickly as it had come.

Instead, it molding into an angry scowl.

"The same for you, master," she replied, a harsh tone in her voice. On the inside, though, she had no doubt in her mind that he would kill her if she screwed up.

_Kill me, then! I'd rather die than serve._

"We'll see about that, Elf. " Zaythl fired back at her, chin stuck out, smirking. He shook his head as an unreadable expression dawned on it. Thee sorcerer rose from his spot on the couch and walked over to a table in the corner that had a large cloth over it. He tossed the fabric aside, revealing a basket of breads, rice, and vegetables.

Instead of sitting on the couch, he sat in the middle of the room cross-legged, and gently placed down the basket. As Zaythl removed its contents, he asked-not looking up at her-,

"Would you like something to eat?"

"Rot in hell, you rat," she answered him. The only reply she got, though, was a dark chuckle.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he said as he took a roll from the basket and began to eat it. With his mouth full, he gestured to the floor. "Do sit."

Mesirsallel mumbled something under her breath, but quickly sunk to her knees. However, her thoughts of strangling this enemy of hers was put to a halt as she stared forlornly at the rolls and vegetables. Her stomach grumbled, rather loudly. The Shadow Warrior quickly lifted her hand to her belly, trying to muffle the sound, but it was too late. Her master had noticed.

"Ah, so you are hungry," he laughed. He selected a roll from the basket and gently tossed it to her. "Eat it if you want." Zaythl told her, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth. The warrior picked it up, turning it over in her hands. Something was telling her to eat the bread, but she pushed that thought aside. Mesirsallel gripped it tightly in her hand, and gave a hard throw of the roll to the sorcerer.

"I said I wasn't hungry!" she snarled at him as the roll hit him square in the face. The roll dropped into the sorcerer's lap. He gave her a fierce look, but did nothing more except picking up the roll and placing it into the basket. He continued to eat, occasionally glancing at her. Zaythl only then started to notice how thin she was. You could see the outline of her ribs. A pang of sympathy seemed to smack him in the back of the head.

_Don't feel sorry for her, she's a slave. She doesn't deserve sympathy!_

The Dark Elf continued to observe her, taking in her pale features, at least, the ones that didn't include heavy cuts and bruises. She didn't appear to notice his staring; her eyes were off in the distance. And thank Khaine for that.

* * *

Mesirsallel was forcing back thoughts of her hunger, so she tried focusing on another large problem that had sprung into her mind. She had been captured in order to save her brother, but she had no idea where he was now. Was he dead? The Shadow Warrior felt moisture in her eyes, but quickly blinked them away. She stole a look at her master. Did he notice?

He was staring at her, but he appeared to not have noticed. She let out a mental sigh of relief. As much as she wanted to slaughter him, she knew he would kill her if she gave him a reason to. She looked at him again, gazing at his nicely shaped face and pale pink lips. But as she looked, she felt like slapping herself.

Why would she be admiring the features of the man who would probably kill her?

A voice cut her off.

"Looks like it's nightfall. You sleep over there," Zaythl told her, gesturing to a set of blankets and a pillow on the far side of the room. He rose to his feet, set away the basket, and strode to the door. The sorcerer produced a key, set it into the lock and turned it, then put the key who-knows-where. Mesirsallel was still on her knees, glaring at him.

"Fine, don't sleep," he said simply. He walked up to his drawer, pulled out a red nightrobe, and began to dress. The warrior was facing away from him, so she didn't notice. Zaythl got into the bed, pulled the red covers over him, and, before laying down, grabbed his witchstaff. Just in case.

He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

The sorcerer must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes, the Shadow Warrior was not in view. He sat up quickly, but sighed because the girl had walked over to her pallet and was now in a heavy sleep. He climbed out of bed quietly so as not to wake her, and walked over to the corner table. The Dark Elf pulled a roll out of the basket, and set it beside his new slave before walking back to his bed to sleep.

When he woke up, the roll was gone.

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Nice way to end, Ari-thinks to self- Hahaha. REVIEW! It's much appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

I spent last night and most of today befuddled between which scene to place in next. O3o. Remember, REVIEW! Constructive criticism is much appreciated. **SORRY FOR LACK OF UPDATES, I was lazy D:**

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The Chaos moon had faded into the bright blue that was now taking place in the sky. The sun shone in through the window of Zaythl's room, awakening both himself and his slave. He sat up in his bed, covered in sweat. Bad dream, perhaps? He couldn't remember. He swung his legs over the side and hauled himself up.

Mesirsallel sat up slowly also, rubbing her eyes like a small child. Her stomach grumbled loudly as she got up. The High Elf winced; her joints were aching terribly. What she didn't notice, though, was her master watching her. When she looked up, his hand was outstretched towards her.

She didn't take it, keeping her arms straight against her sides. He let his hand drop as he spoke,

"Come on. Let's go find us something to eat," he unlocked the door as he chattered. Mesirsallel hated how he used the phrase 'we'. Zaythl pushed the door open, turned his head to make sure his slave was following him, and walked into the main hall. This time he took an unexpected turn, strolling into a grand room.

The walls, unlike the rest of Ghrond's Sacristy, were a vibrant gold with silver accents. Large tables were set around the room, filled by at least a hundred Dark Elves. The young sorcerer guided himself and his High Elf servant to a table, filling in two cushioned chairs. They were surrounded by a group of already drunken people.

One reached out to put his arm around Mesirsallel.

"Aye, Zayth.. Who's this?" a slurred voice sputtered out. Another reached out and took her hand.

"Yeah, who is she?" came another as more of the group came over and began to touch her shoulders, arms, etc.

The High Elf's face was less than pleased; Zaythl's not much better. Her face was a bright red, eyebrows drawn together in frustration. When one reached over to touch her chest; however, her expression was contorted into rage. Mesirsallel whirled around, her clenched fist being pushed into the Elf's nose. As he pulled back, nose bleeding, she grabbed the wrist of another drunk holding her and twisted it while elbowing the Elf behind her.

With both arms now free, she snatched the hem of the shirt of the last drunken Dark Elf and came nose-to-nose with him.

"Don't touch me again, you bastard." She angrily said as she shoved him to the floor. While her master and the rest of the people in the room, watched in horror, she dove onto the man and began to dig at his face with her nails. The slave swung wildly, smashing against his jaw and nose. Seeing that his servant might kill the foolish Dark Elf, Zaythl shoved back his chair and rushed over. He gripped her shoulders and dragged her back, her arms flailing.

He pulled her out of the room, with her screeching like a banshee. He set her down just outside and glared at her.

"What the hell was that about?" he fired at her.

"They were all over me, what would you like me to say?" she shot back at him.

"What I want you to DO is to not ever fucking do that again! That's my reputation on the line. As one of Malekith's top sorcerers I do not wan-"

She cut him off. "Oh, so this is about ego, is it? Reality check, you egotistic bastard, we don't stay up top forever," she yelled. "Just take a look at me!"

In his fury, he pushed her to the ground. As she fell, she grabbed onto the hem of his robe and dragged him down with her. They smacked at each other, but Mesirsallel was much more skilled at hand-to-hand fighting than he was. She rolled on top of him and dug her thumbs into his eyes, making him scream and writhe in pain. The High Elf was about to dig his eyes out when a strong voice came from across the hall.

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

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Cliffhanger o2o.


	5. Chapter 5

I haven't updated in forever, I'M SORRY ;_;. And I agree with you, random reviewer, the Dark Elves are a little bit too nice.. But that will change ;D. Keep in mind Zaythl is meant to be an exception of the normal Dark Elf personality.

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Mesirsallel's nails were still digging into her captor's eyes as a hefty Dark Elf ran over. He grabbed the girl's shoulders and yanked her up to her feet.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he fired at her, shaking her with his hands. Zaythl rose to his feet, brushing himself off. A trail of blood ran down his face. The man continued to scream at the girl, spittle flying from his mouth onto the High Elf's face. He shook his head and turned to the young sorcerer.

"She should be taught a lesson. No fucking slave is allowed to do that." He explained simply as Zaythl nodded. The Dark Elf took Mesirsallel by the hair and nearly dragged her down the hall. She whimpered in pain but tried to keep her mind off of that fact.

* * *

The High Elf opened her eyes. It was very hard to; they were crusty. She noticed her arms were raised above her head. She tried to pull them down, but they were encased in shackles. Mesirsallel looked around the room she was now in, a gray, four-walled-no-windows space. In front of her was a large, buff, Dark Elf with a menacing look upon his face.

In his hand he had a whip. He circled her, giving it a crack against the wall for good measure.

"You know slaves act up, don't you?" he asked, scowling, but Mesirsallel's gaze was focused on the small opening in the room. So, her bastard owner was watching? Let him! His face had an unreadable expression on it, but she didn't notice. She was much too angry. Her rage was so deep, in fact, she didn't feel the first crack of the whip exploding into her back. Then came another.

The pain was horrendous, it felt like a dagger being plunged into her shoulder blade. Tears filled the slave's eyes, but she said nothing. The man grunted as he swung his whip harder and deeper into the girl's back. A single tear rolled down the girl's cheek, but no sound escaped her.

Across the room, the young sorcerer stared stonily. He didn't like to see the girl hurt-for whatever reason- but he knew it had to be done. Still, Zaythl felt uneasy watching the man switch from whipping his slave's back to her chest now. When the first stinging blow came across her chest, she let out a sharp cry. The next landed in exactly almost the same spot. The girl's ears began to ring. A blow was enough, but when the next landed in the same place, it was unbearable. She tried to focus her mind off of it, but the pain was too prominent for her to ignore.

As blood ran down her chest and back, the whipping stopped. Mesirsallel lifted her head slightly, but found it extremely hard. It was as if all the energy had left her body. A bright fire was burning in the corner of the room. Her eyes grew large. He was going to brand her! The torturous Dark Elf lifted the metal pole out of the fire, the end bright orange. He walked toward her, grinning, as she whimpered. The pole was thrust onto her arm, and the girl screamed. It was so much worse than getting whipped. She would have rather been whipped a thousand times than have this punishment. Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks as she thrashed against her bonds.

The pole was released off her arm, but it wasn't over. He simply walked back over to the fire, placed the pole in the midst of it, and trudged back over. However, when it hit her shoulder, the slave's vision grew blurry and she blacked out.

* * *

When she dizzily woke up, she was no longer in the torture chamber. Instead, she was in Zaythl's room, where he was applying a salve to her wounds. Mesirsallel lifted her hand to swat him away, but he grabbed it and continued his work.

"What are you..?" she asked, but he cut her off.

"Fixing your wounds." He said blatantly. He began to wrap up her arms and back in cloth.

"I'm sorry, I went overboard," he apologized quickly. Zaythl dabbed some of the salve onto a piece of cloth and began to dab at scratches on her face.

"I don't need your help," she grunted at him, and began to sit up. When she did, the whole room began to spin. Quickly, the girl's master grabbed her arm gently and lowered her back down. She didn't understand why this Dark Elf was helping her.

On the other hand, Zaythl's mind was very clouded. Even though he barely knew this young Elf, he wanted to help her. Despite the fact that this was much frowned upon by the Dark Elves, he felt like it was his duty to do so. He rose to his feet.

"I'll get you some water. Just hang on there, okay?" he said softly, with Mesirsallel looking rather dumbstruck, and he left the room, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

Oooooh c:. Ok, fluff next chapter. And yes, MesXZay fluff. IM SORRY! D:. It is a fanfic after all o-o


	6. Chapter 6

FINISHED! School's started. :c I'M OVERLOADED WITH WORK-drowns-. I finally got myself up to writing. :3. Less updates, but I'll try my best. Now, did I mention fluff or whaaattt? Again, Zaythl is supposed to be an EXCEPTION to the stereotypical Dark Elf ;_;

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The young sorcerer watched his slave while she slept. For the first time, the Dark Elf actually felt safe around this girl. It was ironic; the slave should be scared of its master. Yet the Shadow Warrior was so strong, so determined. He shook his head.

Her battered and bruised face was relaxed in her sleep. He did feel bad for her punishment; it was an overreaction, right? Zaythl wanted to hit himself. Malekith would frown upon his behavior. No, he would slaughter him for it! If the Dark Elf were in his lord's position, he would do the same.

Yet, he still didn't grasp why he was so nice to her. In the past, his female slaves were merely rag dolls he could throw around the room. This one was different though, she would fight back.(1) He studied her features more carefully. Her gentle expression was a mask. She was truly vicious.

Was it her fault, though?

Surely she had been through a lot, he thought to himself. No Elf simply _becomes_ a Shadow Warrior. There was a lot of hatred in her, Zaythl assumed. Probably almost as much as a Black Guard would have inside their frozen heart.

"_What makes you think you're better than me?"_ the question his slave had asked him the other day suddenly popped into his mind. It was arrogant of her, yes, but.. Mesirsallel did possess a lot of skill. Did she really despise him that much? The sorcerer answered his own question. Of course she does, he thought. He had her tortured, and he was the one to keep her as a slave. Someone who wasn't allowed to fight back, no matter what the occasion.

A pang of pity slammed into him. Zaythl felt the need to make it up to her. When these urges came upon him, it was as if another voice was screaming at him to be merciless toward her. As he warred inside himself, the High Elf's eyes began to open. Her gaze appeared calm.. until she saw her master staring her down. Frantically, she sat up, but hurt her wounds in the process.

Mesirsallel winced as the sorcerer came walking over, checking to see if anything had split open.

"Are you alright?" he asked her gently.

She nodded, her jaw clenched. He nodded back at her, and crossed the threshold of the room to the door. Zaythl turned the knob and slipped out into the hallway. As he walked towards the dining hall with his hands rolled into tight fists, he still couldn't shake the look on the girl's face when she had been whipped out of his mind. The sorcerer walked into the grand room, and took from the baskets an assortment of fruit and bread. He looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed, and strode from the dining hall and back into his living quarters.

When Zaythl pushed open the door, Mesirsallel was sitting up in his bed. Her large eyes stared cautiously at him as he entered. She was gnawing on her chapped and split lower lip, out of habit, he thought. The sorcerer very slowly walked over to his slave, so not to startle or anger her.

"Mesirsallel?" he got no response, but he continued anyway.

"Look, I'm sorry." He took a deep breath. Why was he, a great Dark Elf sorcerer, apologizing to a slave? "Can I make it up to you, please?" _PLEASE?_ his conscience screamed at him. The Dark Elf held out his hand. The Shadow Warrior looked at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. However, she hesitantly reached out and took it. Zaythl's eyes widedened in surprise. He hadn't expected her to take his hand, he had thought she might have socked him in the face.

Nonetheless, he gently pulled her from the bed and towards the door. Little did the slave know how much Zaythl was battling with himself with every step he took. He let go of her hand when they stepped into the hallway. He didn't want anyone to notice what he was doing. The sorcerer led Mesirsallel out the back gate of Ghrond's Sacristy, and they began to trudge through the grass. The High Elf was also doing some thinking.

Perhaps her master might skin her alive! Or beat her to death then throw her body in the river! After all, it was him who had her whipped within an inch of her life. She wanted to believe him, though. She honestly felt drained of all her fight. Now, she really didn't care what he did.

Abruptly, Zaythl stopped walking and turned around to face the girl, who was looking at the ground. His brow furrowed with concern, but it was washed away when the slave lifted her head to a beautiful scene. They had stopped in front of a large grove with a rather big pool of water in the center, surrounded by bushes loaded with fruit she could not name. Was her master truly trying to make things up, or just tricking her into her own demise?

* * *

(1) Does that remind anyone of the movie Spirit? .-.

Umm yeah, I know I said fluff, BUT IT'S A START. NEXT CHAPTER, I PROMISE. And seriously writer's block is shooting me in the face. D:.


	7. Chapter 7

YOU THOUGHT I DIED, DIDN'T YOU? Hahaha, I didn't. I apologize for my hiatus. D:. Writer's block+school+laziness= the ultimate recipe for not updating. Heeheeeh. :c.. Anyways, I'm still confused as to this chapter's storyline, so I apologize if it's.. well, ya know.

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Mesirsallel bit down on her tongue. She was shocked and also suspicious at the same time. The High Elf glanced up at her master, who was chewing on his lip nervously. Slowly, she sat down on the dew-covered grass and watched as he let out a small sigh of relief and sat beside her.

As the sun began to set, the clouds pumped to their brims like hot air balloons, with pink and oranges spangled across the sky, Zaythl began to speak. He was trying his best to strike up a normal conversation.

"I used to come here when I was little," he said rather softly. Mesirsallel glanced at him, his eyes slightly lidded. It was a truly beautiful place. She could understand why he would want to come here. There seemed to be a long pause; his face grew slightly troubled.

"What about you?" he asked plainly, laying back on the grass with his hands folded behind his head. The slave bit her lower lip. He rolled over onto his side to face her, his copper eyes boring into her multi-colored ones(1). She sucked in her breath as his beautiful face glanced at her, waiting.

Finally, Mesirsallel turned her pale face towards the sky as she opened her mouth to talk. "My mother was an Archmage of Hoeth.. She was truly gorgeous, and she had a heart to match." She smiled faintly. "I had ten brothers and sisters total. I loved all of them, but.." the Shadow Warrior trailed off.

Zaythl watched carefully. "But..?"

"One of my brothers joined your ranks," she said bitterly. "A Black Guard. Odjira, if you know the name."

"Odjira.." the sorcerer murmured. He began to recall the name. Odjira was one of Malekith's favorite guards. Zaythl had met the coldhearted Elf himself, and it wasn't a very pleasurable experience. He was very.. detached. "I remember him," he replied to her. His slave turned around to face him, her eyes slightly lit.

"How is he? Is he okay?" Tears began to pool in her eyes, very much different than how she bitterly spoke of him.

"Yes, yes, he's fine." He answered as the tears, which were burning in her eyes, finally spilled over and began to run down her cheeks. Slowly, he reached out with his thumb and wiped them from her face.

'_..And here are your new slave's papers, young master. She has no living family relations except for Odjira.' The young woman stamped the papers with a large red seal of Khaine and handed them to the sorcerer. 'Off you go!'_

Soon, the small tears turned into uncontrollable wracking sobs. As she cried, Zaythl pushed himself up and wrapped his arms around the broken girl. She leaned into his chest, shuddering and breathing raggedly. He gently ran his free hand up and down her back, sadness filling his heart as well.

His heart was breaking for his poor slave. As much as he hated his kin, this High Elf was so different. So strong and yet broken at the same time. The sorcerer tightened his grip around Mesirsallel, who's crying was now reduced to small shudders. As the pink and purple sky began to fade into a deep blue, he laid back down on the soft grass with the Shadow Warrior in his arms; her eyes were lidded, red-rimmed and heavy. While the stars began to dot across the sky, she dozed off into sleep.

Zaythl looked down into his slave's face, which was now relaxed and peaceful. Her strawberry-blonde curls were clean and wreathed her face. Abruptly, he turned his face to the sky, blankly looking out at the world, eyeing the deep green Chaos moon as it shone eerily into full view. He loved to come here, yes…

_A little boy ran from his camp into the forest, sobbing and rubbing his eyes like a toddler. The sun was beginning to set, and he was carrying himself as fast as his feet could carry him. However, he tripped over a branch that was set out from a tree, and tumbled down the grass-covered hill and through a bush, entering into a beautiful wonderland of his own._

The Dark Elf glanced back down at her, slid both hands under her back, and stood up, carrying her bridal style. He walked out of the moonlight-basked grove and towards Ghrond's Sacristy; the girl tossed lightly in his arms. When he came back, he slipped in through the postern and back to his quarters, where he kicked the door open gently and stepped inside. Gingerly, he set Mesirsallel on his bed and pulled the blankets up around her.

He walked into his washroom, cleaning his face and staring at his reflection in the mirror. He returned, groggily climbing into his bed and falling into a blissful sleep. Little did he know, though, a certain Dark Elf had been watching the whole day.

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(1) If you don't remember, one of her eyes is gray with hazel rimming the pupil, and the other green with flecks of blue.. Cliffhanger, yes? I really tried to make the connection between the two in this chapter. After all, this is a ROMANCE story, yes? . . Reviews are much accepted, and OH! Here's my question of the day: If you could pick a theme song for either Zaythl or Mesirsallel, what would it be? For Mesirsallel, mine would have to be Cactus in the Valley by LIGHTS. Goodday! New chapter by Sunday-Monday!


	8. Chapter 8

I figured since I had the day off I would write some c:. Oh, by the way, 1,000 VIEWS! I know it doesn't seem like too much, but it's totally awesome to me. Hurrhurrrr. By the way, the fact that this has been viewed in over 10 countries is totally awesome.

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Rain slowly pounded again the window, creating a relaxing, steady rhythm, and the young sorcerer started to wake. Slowly, he cracked open each eye to reveal Mesirsallel sleeping beside him. Zaythl lurched up in bed. The High Elf tossed in her sleep, mumbling.

He vaguely remembered carrying her back into his quarters, and didn't really mind the fact she had been beside him. Truly, he was starting to take a liking to her. Zaythl reached down to tuck a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, and swung his legs over the bed. When he pulled open the door, though, a most unpleasant surprise was waiting for him.

Sithero, a beautiful young Witch Elf, stood leaning against the wall with a most oppressing frown on her face. Besides that, though, she was stunning. Her hair was a midnight blue tied back in a high ponytail with large violet eyes, which had thick, black lashes, to match. Her ice blue corset was.. revealing.. to say the least, and the daggers tucked into their holsters seemed truly viscous as they were coated in a greenish liquid.

"Sithero," the sorcerer said, almost bitterly. Zaythl and the bride of Khaine had a messed up past. Before she decided to join the hags, he and the woman had been lovers. Except, Sithero had a tenancy to be quite deceptive, and frequently tried to hang on him(1).

"Zaythl," she replied, her frown turning into a slight pout as she stepped closer to him. "I heard you got a new slave." Sithero said slowly as she raised her dark eyebrows. The sorcerer caught the gesture and crinkled his forehead. What would she mean by that?

"Yes, what about her?" he answered slowly. Sithero snorted and ran her hand along the flat of one of her daggers.

"Oh, I think you know very well what I'm talking about!" she snarled as she advanced closer. "I saw you two last night, in the grove. Zaythl, you were all over that mutt of an and I both know that this kind of behavior is completely wrong!" The Witch Elf stepped back, glaring at him.

Quickly after, the sorcerer fired back at her, "You were always one to follow me around, hag. And how can you say that would be wrong when you're the one trampling around with every guard in all of Avelorn!" She chuckled.

"You might be right, but.. What if I told Malekith? He would have your head chopped off, wouldn't he?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Maybe I would.." she said slowly, licking her lips. Zaythl knew perfectly well what this meant and calmly told her to fuck off.

"Suit yourself!" Sithero cackled, strutting off. The sorcerer simply strode back into his room and slammed the door. She was a whore, and he knew it. However, his attention quickly turned to Mesirsallel, who was sitting up in his bed and stretching her arms, wincing as she did so.

Zaythl crossed his arms. "Did you sleep well?" he asked simply. The High Elf stared at him, then at where she was-which was in his bed-. Immediately and with a panic, she kicked off the blankets and sat down at her usual spot on the floor. "I didn't mean it like that," he said with a snort.

The Dark Elf strode over to the girl and knelt down beside her. His slave's eyes were downcast, but he reached out and tipped her chin up to look at her. Mesirsallel struggled against his grip, raking at his arms with her nails, but he continued to watch her. Eventually, she wound down and simply stared at him.

Her pretty face was tinged pink, and her curls were nappy but still volumous.

"Mesirsallel," Zaythl began.

"Would you like to meet your brother again?" he asked her softly. The young sorcerer felt her jaw clench in his grip. She was about to say no, but the determinated look in his eyes stopped her and the Shadow Warrior nodded 'yes'.

Now, it was Zaythl's turn to look away. He let go of her chin and sat cross-legged in front of her, his knees touching the girl's. The Dark Elf took her hands in his, but, feeling her strict and fierce hesitation, he let them go.

"I'll find him for you." He said. His copper eyes had slight hardened, to match his emotion, so to speak. The young man rose up from his spot and turned to go. The sorcerer began to walk, but he felt a hand grip his ankle to pull him back. He turned his head around to find Mesirsallel looking up at his beautiful face. She stood up slowly, as if her joints were hurting her.

The girl wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Thank you." Her voice was very soft as she spoke in his ear. At first, he was frozen solid. A few moments after, though, he wrapped his own arms around her. Mesirsallel felt him smile against her neck.

He was a very sweet person, and she had only realized that recently.

Zaythl's face was turned into Mesirsallel's neck, grinning softly. He would like to stay like this, but he didn't think she'd appreciate that much contact. Slowly, he pulled away, running his hands down her arms gently. She looked up at her master, and he looked at her, too. Her eyes were so beautiful, her lips beautiful, every feature.. And at that moment, he felt like he wanted it. The Dark Elf leaned into towards her face and gently pressed his mouth to hers. Quickly, he pulled back to see her eyes wide, and it appeared to be with either surprise or fear. It wasn't the expression he necessarily wanted to see. Turning his eyes down, he released her and walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

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And I can honestly say the end was rushed. ..And short. Oh, and I am sad to say that I might be moving to Fictionpress and abandoning this story for awhile to work on a new-and completely original-content filled- story. Which, I might add, have a few ideas for but still need help on figuring out. Please message me for that D:. AND BEFORE YOU SAY SOMETHING .. I won't be completely abandoning this-not like I ever updated often heheheo_o- But I will not work on it for awhile. Oh, review, suckers! ***flee **


	9. Chapter 9

How's everyone? I told you all to review, and I HAVEN'T RECEIVED ONE FOR CHAPTER 8?! My faith in all of you is lost :c..

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_"Odjira, please. She's your sister, for Malekith's sake." Odjira only stared back at him, his eyes barely flickering with recognition._

_"I know not of such a person. Leave me be. I have business to attend to."_

_And he walked off. Just like that._

Now, Zaythl walked back to his room, carrying a large box that seemed to have a mind of its own. It tried to tip itself over, bumping about as he carried it to his quarters. He couldn't exactly placate his emotions right now. The young sorcerer was both excited and nervous at the same time.

The Dark Elf pushed open the door, revealing his slave, Mesirsallel, gently sleeping on the floor. He set the rattling box on the floor and walked over to her; he shook her awake, her eyes opening and widening slightly.

"Hi," he said, rather shyly. She only looked away.

"Hi." It wasn't very much of an enthusiastic reaction. Zaythl only got to his feet and strode back over to where the large box lay. The sorcerer picked it up, and set it down before the girl, catching a suspicious glance from her at the same time. He smiled encouragingly at the Shadow Warrior.

"I got you a present.. Please, open it." He whispered pleadingly at her. Her eyes switched from him to the box, and ever so slowly, she took it in her hands and opened its side. Suddenly, a large screech erupted from the box, and a white ball seemed to shoot from it, cascading into the girl.

Mesirsallel, fell over, opening her eyes to a small, white cat standing on top of her, its nails slightly protruding through her shirt. Its fur was long and feathery, and it had wide, green eyes. Its ears were large and pointed, with a pink nose and long whiskers to match. The cat was beautiful.

The creature leaned down and began to sniff at her face. Gently, the High Elf sat up and reached out a hand to pet her. Immediately, the she-cat purred and sat in her lap. The slave smiled and continued to pet her while Zaythl sat beside Mesirsallel, watching.

Abruptly, she turned to him and asked, "May I name her?" The Shadow Warrior's eyes looked very happy and hopeful. He nodded at her, even though the 'may' was a tad odd for word choice. "Anubis" The sorcerer heard her say. She called the cat that frequently, stroking her back and rubbing her ears.

Outside, the rain poured heavily. The cold began to settle in, chilling the dark room even more. The sun had almost fully set, and the dark blues began to take the place of reds and purples. Zaythl felt his slave shiver beside him. He turned to look at her. Her slave rags had been tattered and had holes in them. He reached out and tilted her chin up to face him, drawing her attention away from Anubis.

"Are you cold?" he asked her softly. His copper eyes were warm and friendly. She shook her head 'no'. "Really?" he asked again, doubtingly.

"Freezing," she replied to him. Zaythl rose to his feet and walked over to his bed, where he yanked the top blanket; it was a hand crafted one made from the High Elf's horses in Avelorn. He sat back down beside her, shoulder to shoulder, and laid the blanket down on both of them. Anubis seemed to like being under it also; she rested her head on her small paws.

Mesirsallel continued to rub the cat's ears, and gradually, the feline fell asleep. As the moon rose into full view, the silence continued to stretch between them. The Dark Elf couldn't take it.

"Mesirsallel?" She looked up at him. Inside, she was mad at herself for the fact that her hatred for this boy had completely defrosted in her mind. But she wasn't about to tell him that. That grove sure did work some magic there, she was sure of it. "I'm sorry I jumped on you so quickly earlier," he looked down, slightly blushing.

However, his head snapped up when he felt a gentle hand on his. His slave was staring up at him, her eyes soft and comforting. The Shadow Warrior smiled lightly at him, and he could feel himself grinning back.

"It's nothing." She replied back to him. Zaythl was less focused on paying attention and more concerned about glancing into her eyes. His cheeks were still tinged pink; he was always a shy kid. He could also feel himself slowly leaning in towards her face as her expression turned surprised, but Mesirsallel didn't appear frightened as she had before.

And for the second time that day, his lips gently pressed themselves to hers. The Dark Elf's arms wrapped around the girl's; her lips were very soft. He only stayed there for a couple short moments, then pulled away to find his slave's face looking so joyful. Zaythl pulled her closer, his face turned into her neck, breathing in the scent of her.

The girl's arms wrapped around his neck, eliciting a smile from him. Abruptly, though, she yawned and he leaned back and glanced at her. Her eyes were heavy, and she reached up to rub them like a small child would. Deftly, he picked her up and set her on his bed, picked up the blanket on the floor, and sat beside her, pulling it up over them.

The sorcerer rolled over to face Mesirsallel, who's face was slightly shocked. Again, his arms wrapped back around her waist and he yanked her to him.

"Thank you," he heard her whisper. Zaythl nodded, and he gently pressed his lips to hers before she dozed off to sleep. He though, lay wide-awake. He couldn't sleep. Suddenly, Anubis leapt onto the bed, her green eyes gleaming. The cat set herself down at Mesirsallel's feet, resting her head onto her paws.

"Yeah, I like her too," The sorcerer said drowsily. He faced back to his slave and simply looked at her until he fell asleep.

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That morning, the Shadow Warrior rose first, the sun's rays beaming in through the window and its light playing on her face as she stretched her arms. She noticed the window had been pushed open, and Anubis was sitting on the railing. The girl smiled at her.

"Good morning," Zaythl began to stir beside her. Her head turned to face his body, which was tossing around in his sleep. She gave him a fierce shove, which accidentally sent him off the bed. He hit the ground with a thud, groaning. Mesirsallel kicked off the covers and rushed over to him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, reaching down to feel his forehead-as if that would help-. His eyes opened, dark circles under them from a lack of sleep. The Dark Elf sat up, pressing a hand to the small of his back.

"Fine, thanks." He said with much sarcasm.

"I didn't mean to shove you that hard," the High Elf replied, putting a hand to her mouth to cover her giggles. It was a merry sound and he laughed back at her.

"Are you laughing at me?" he said, teasingly. This only brought on more laughter. Soon, it faded away and they still sat face-to-face. The sorcerer rested his chin on his hands and leaned in slightly towards her, still grinning. "Hungry?" She nodded at him. "So am I."And as if on cue, Anubis walked past, her tail flicking back and forth in the air.

"Stay here," he told her, and rose to his feet. He strode from the room and into the dining quarters, gathering food to bring back to her. Zaythl wanted to please her. He half-waddled back to his room; his arms were weighted down from the delicacies he was bringing to this girl. The Dark Elf could feel her smile on him.

"Are you trying to fatten me up?" Mesirsallel asked plainly as he sat down. He simply sat down right in front of her and handed her two biscuits, one for her, one for Anubis, and they ate. Or, she and the feline ate while he sat back and looked at the window. The High Elf looked up at him curiously. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"No." he replied. A finely cut strawberry was shoved into his face.

"Eat it." She ordered him. Gingerly, he took it from her and bit into it.

"Happy?" he asked, grinning. She nodded. Anubis meowed beside them. "You want to go somewhere?"

"What do you mean?" she looked up at him.

"Just out." He stood up and held out his hand, which she took and rose to her feet. Zaythl smiled broadly at her. Mesirsallel's face was puzzled, and she gestured to Anubis. "Leave her," he said simply. "She'll be fine." The sorcerer pushed open the door, and together they walked from the postern of Ghrond's Sacristy, him pulling her gently.

Zaythl was taking her to the grove again, she realized. The large trees were slowly popping into view, and the water's glimmer could be seen from where they were walking. She couldn't lie to herself and say that she wasn't anxious. She even ever so slightly had feelings for this Dark Elf.

He gently pulled her to the spot where the pond met the grass and sat down with her, their toes dipping into the water.

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I'm bad at love stories


	10. Chapter 10PREVIEWUpdates

Oh hello. C:. Miss me? Now, I shall begin my long explanation of my hiatus… 1. I moved houses! It was a big move, but my new house looks absolutely beautifffulll. 2. I had carpal tunnel! Yep. Playing WAR and such is not good to do 24/7. I couldn't feel my right hand, so I went to the doctor, and boom.. needed surgery. It wasn't painful, except after haha. I wasn't allowed to be on the computer for a couple weeks, and note, I still have school. So, I apologize. Now, let's get down to the good stuff :D. By the way, thank you for all of the reviews! Also, I will be starting a new WAR-Age of Reckoning story soon, filled with lots of violence and killing and all that good stuff. Exams too. HERE, I GIVE YOU A PREVIEW!

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A loud, ear-splitting screech echoed through the halls of Ghrond's Sacristy; the two-headed hounds raised their heads and howled as a response. The high pitched noise bounced off the walls, reverberating back quieter and quieter, and fading into nothing.

-x

Zaythl lurched up in his bed, breaking out in cold sweats. His eyes looked around the room wildly, but as he had expected, nothing was there. The sorcerer was alone. A week ago, Mesirsallel had turned up missing. The beautiful Shadow Warrior he had cared for had disappeared without a trace, and the Dark Elf had never been able to find her. At first he suspected she was taken for some odd reason, but had to come to the conclusion she ran away.

Zaythl, for quite a long time, spent hours conjuring up all the possible reasons she could have left. He shouldn't have, though, she was just a slave. However, he couldn't quite shake the thought of her from his mind. The sorcerer's magic was not as powerful, and the Dark Elf knew that Malekith was watching him like a hawk. The young Elf hadn't been eating as often either. He felt foolish.

Suddenly, a large blast of a bugle, followed by shouting, hit his ears. Gunshots rang out; he saw people running across the field. Zaythl could barely make out a voice over all of the screaming:

"Dark Elves, to your rise! Our hated brethren have brought allies to wreak havoc upon our lands!"

So that was it, was it?

Slowly, he swung his legs off the bed and reached for his staff. The blue mist surrounding the tip swirled down the staff to meet his hand, and stopped there. The blue felt cold against his hand. Zaythl opened the door of his quarters and began to walk down the hall.

It was an impressive sight for his taste.

Witch Hunters, the deadly and swift sworn enemies of Chaos, were pouring in through the main door, which had been busted down. He noticed the slave keeper, Cairne, lying in a pool of blood by the cages. His face had been beaten in, and there was a large gash at the side of his head. Witch Hunters were not of Elven race. They were humans. Zaythl had suspected they had taken Dwarf flightmasters here, then again, High Elves could have brought them by boat.

They were dangerous to Chaos members of all kinds, especially if they surprised you. The young sorcerer had seen a number of his fellow Dark Kin fall at the hands of a pistol and saber. Nonetheless, the raiders poured in, shooting Elves left and right. Suddenly, blood splattered against his face. Zaythl turned around- a hunter, his hat shielding his face, had just stabbed one of his servants.


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